...yesterday

To paraphrase that olde, ancient rock group, The Beatles, in one of their more famous tunes, "Yesterday, all my troubles 'didn't' seem so far away." Ok...if you know the tune...you can stop here for a few moments and try to hum/sing all the rest of "Yesterday......."

My troubles were puny, to the max, compared to where I ended up on Thursday. I can do a lot of things, but mechanical or fix-em-up projects freeze me dead to the floor. So...realizing that my towel rack in our bathroom had pulled loose from the wall stirred all the non-mechanical chaos of my history. However, all of that panic was stupid, to the max.

Having remembered the unremarkable TV adds that stated the experts at Lowe's or Home Depot could help you do anything, I took great courage in the potential of "truth in advertising" and headed off into the day, knowing that one of those two businesses would be my last stop before returning home. But between holding the towel rack in my grubby hands...and finding an angel named Clifton at Lowe's (who did know everything I needed to know and do)...my mind and heart was stretched hard.

Most of the middle part of the day was spent at Children's Hospital in downtwon Denver. A wonderful leadership couple, who has been on a healing journey for over a year and a half from a life-taking church situation, asked me to come and sit with them and their daughter...as their granddaughter went through a very serious biopsy. The potential of this precious child not living is huge. The results of the various tests will not be known for awhile. The anxiety and grief are very real for this family.

One thing I noticed at the hospital yesterday (different from my visit to Lowe's where I watched one parent go balistic in shaming their kid) is that no parents were yelling at their children at Children's. Voice tones were muted...tears were often seeing sliding down cheeks in the surgery waiting room...not many smiles were showing up...faces were drawn and tense...and most people seemed exhausted.

At one point, having needed to use the restroom down the hall, I watched as parents pulled their very ill children around in varying sizes of red wagons, all stuffed with pillows and blankets to make the current journey of the moment more comfortable. Most of these kids were as pale as the sheets. And no one hollered at them, even when they were crying or complaining.

Rounding one corner I found one young Asian couple down on their knees in the middle of the hallway around the little red wagon that held their tiny daughter. They were praying for her. They were weeping. So was I. I heard the father say, "God...we don't know what else to do...."

God's book to us says that if we are to enter the Kingdom of God we must become like little children. This thought collided with the scene in front of me...as I looked at this precious child whose open eyes stared up at the small bottles dripping something into her frail body.

"Is this the kind of child I must be like to enter Your kingdom?" I asked in the prayer-thought places of my mind. Then, in one gesture both of these kneeling parents stroked the cheeks of this child as they continued to pray...people whipping around them in the hallway on their urgent tasks.

There was hallowed ground in that corridor surrounding those three. It is a picture I will long take with me, whether it is into the mundane, but still important task of repairing the towel rack this weekend...or engaging in conversations with relationships that I am called to serve and engage on the path for this day.

One thought at this beginning hour of this Friday is that being children of God, and thus entering His Kingdom, is not always envisioning healthy, bouncing, loud, laughing boys and girls. Will I allow myself to be the child in the wagon? Will you?

Comments

[Tom Smith]

Thanks for sharing Wes. I'm ill today and spent most of it in bed ... my bed became a sanctuary of fellowship and your story was part of the facilitating towards it.

[Ben]

Powerful images and thoughts, Wes. I put a link to this post on my blog today.

Ben

[bobbie]

such a hard question. i'd rather it be me than my own children. broken. having to be carted around, helpless. oh to think that god could still love me even if i was 'useless' to serve him like i think i must. if he can still love me helpless then i think i must be able to answer yes.